A Fairytale Investigation
by Laeta
Summary: There is a wise king, a fair lady, and a villain who threatens all tranquility. [GC] See if you can figure out whatwhy I've written the story the way it is.
1. 1 of 4

Disclaimer: _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.  
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.  
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

***** ***** ***** 

Title: A Fairytale Investigation (1/4)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Unlike most fairytales, this one does not begin with "Once upon a time" nor "There once was" is an adequate introduction for this is not a typical tale with a happily ever after. Yet like most fairytales, there is a wise king, a fair lady, and a villain who threatens all tranquility. This is a story that foes and friends and lovers alike should endeavor not to forget.

We open this fairytale one night in the summer of our wise king's rule. Despite the revelry occurring in the public Halls of the palace, the atmosphere within the king's private study was dire. The expressions worn upon the countenances of those gathered were a deadly grim. Firelight flickered on the circle of faces and enhanced the fatigue - mental, physical, and emotional - of fighting an undiscoverable enemy.

At the table's head sat our King Grissom with the air of established leadership comfortably wrapped on broad shoulders. Gentle lines of age crossed his face, but his eyes were startlingly sharp. Though weariness shone in his posture, the king was deceptively relaxed; underneath the still boyish face lay a predator's wrath heavily caged, only straining to be released.

To King Grissom's right, in satin and silk, was the Lady Courtesan. Known only by her title, our king was one of precious few who knew her true name, she was formidable in her grace, beauty, and intelligence. Years of experience honed her three assets to sharply pointed daggers; her strengths both complimenting and opposing those of her king. She was the only member of this unusual Inner Circle privy to the king's private thoughts.

Aside her was Lord Warrick. A man of quiet and finesse, he neither spoke an untrue word nor judged a person prematurely or, even, at all. His loyalty to the king was absolute and he lay confident in his knowledge of his usefulness to his king. Such unshakable truths aided his entrustment to this Circle where he forged an unlikely alliance with the man next to him.

Lounging in his chair, Sir Nick presented a charming disposition and an easy smile that made him a favorite companion among the Aristocrat's Circle. He was present here tonight because he held an acknowledged influence over them; he was also one of few who understood the treachery of their undiscoverable enemy.

The next seat around the table was empty; its usual occupant was performing his Spells of Truth and Identity to extract any useful information from the minions and victims the enemy hastily and unknowingly left behind. The Wizard Greg was a young man, energetic and at slight odds with the enormity of his talents. Talents recognized by our wise king who nurtured and focused their growth and relieved the blood lust such skills enticed. Under his king's tutelage, the Wizard Greg found ways to keep his talents for the use of good and away from the reaches of the enemy.

Lady Sara was stiffly ensconced in the next seat. Her influence over the Aristocrat's Circle, though not quite as heavy as Sir Nick's, was not to be dismissed. Rather, she held a limitless power over the working class of the kingdom; the plebeians worshipped her and went to great lengths to please her. Anger and bitterness were strengths channel-able to the task at hand as long as she was aware of appreciation.

Last, on King Grissom's left, was the king's longtime friend, advisor, and constable rolled into one stout man. Constable Brass knew when to plan with and when to push his king; he was also too dangerously aware of the shaky ground they all walked. Should this Circle fail, the enemy would add the king's people to the growing legions encompassing the slaves the Las Vegas. At almost all costs, he knew this must not happen.

All eyes gazed toward our wise king on this fateful night though none attempted to rush his decision. Some of this Inner Circle knew the ruthlessness their king could display when necessary; the rest gained that knowledge only through the stories of history. The stature of King Grissom could only be compared to two other kings of ages past: King Alfred of Wessex and the Great King Alexander who walked during ancient times. King Grissom, like these two unique kings, had the ability of duality; he could fight in wars to defend his land without remorse and yet, during peace, with single-minded intensity, he encouraged the growth of his people and upheld the traditions of culture.

King Grissom was a scholar and a hero, in equal measures. His intelligence ran deep and the deaths of his people and men wore deeply in his heart though their lives were given freely for their king. He was a legend in the making and the enemy was the Strip Strangler who wanted to asphyxiate the king's good name.

Finally, with a sigh, the king acknowledged that it was time to raise the table stakes.

"Lord Warrick, when next they convene, send the alter boys to me. Until then, train them well. Lady Sara, gather who you need and what resources you must; Lady Heather's Box must be completed." He did not need to impress that all their plans depended upon it. "Sir Nick, I leave you to discover and track the movements of The Stalker; he may not be involved but let us contain him. All accounts suggest he is of the aristocracy." With a curt nod, he dismissed the three to their respective employs; they will report the following night.

Setting a weary gaze upon his friend, he said, "I need to know if there are unfriendly skies, my friend. Find out if we are being watched from above."

The Constable clasped his longtime friend on the shoulder in an act of promise and reassurance while saying, "To the best of my ability." If nothing else, Constable Brass possessed an intimidating ability to extract confessions; he would know where to go for any information the king needed.

Alone, aside for the Lady Courtesan, King Grissom pondered on the merits of his plan to end the siege of terror on his people once and for all. The enemy was unknown yet all actions dictated their anonymous adversary was well acquainted with himself. He seemingly chose his battlegrounds carefully, but randomly, and it had taken all the king's skills to understand the choices behind the incidents to formulate the presented chaos theory, which may predict the enemy's next move.

"My Lord, the Wizard Greg is here to report." A soothing, rich voice gave strength to finish out this long night of planning and revising. Sometimes, he wondered how far he would have come if the Lady Courtesan had not been there to protect him in moments like these. That is, he had been so preoccupied and worn down by sleepless nights that he was unaware to guard himself; he had not even heard the knock upon the door.

Taking a moment to bow his respect, the Wizard collapsed unceremoniously into his usual chair; exhausted as he was, he conformed to the chair like liquid takes the shape of its container. His hair was askew giving the young man a look of infinite intensity while closed eyes hid the knowledge of centuries. Murmuring a grateful thank you for the beverage pressed into his hand by the Lady Courtesan, the Wizard fixed his gaze upon his king.

"It was a typical crate and burial, My Lord. All executed were placed blindfolded into the vehicle, transported outside the borders. There lies the organ grinder that took the innocent lives. The remains were interred where Constable Brass's men found them three hours later."

"Were any left to direct us on the location of this instrument?"

The Wizard hesitated; the afterthoughts of the victims unanimously pointed to a monstrous machine. Its imprinted image would linger long in his mind.

With a sip to fortify his conscious, the Wizard bitterly answered his king. "Yes. I've already notified the Constable; my written findings are here." He handed a file to the king and made to escape.

"Wizard." A voice not to be ignored checked his hasty retreat. "A name."

Haunted eyes clouding grief answered him. "Ellie." The Wizard Greg left the chamber without dismissal.

***** ***** *****  
© RK 08.Jan.2003


	2. 2 of 4

Disclaimer: _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.  
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.  
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

***** ***** ***** 

Title: A Fairytale Investigation (2/4)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


An hour later, inside the privacy of his rooms, our wise king sipped brandy and contemplated the Wizard Greg's news. The fire before which he sat could not throw off enough heat to warm the coldness of the information nor was the brandy anywhere near sufficient to thaw the grimness of it.

Yet, the light perfume that drifted toward him and lingered long after her presence left comforted him in small measures. Soft, strong, and gentle hands fell cautiously on his shoulders.

"My Lord, you are not responsible for her death. You are not responsible for the choices she made; she knew the danger and accepted it. All she wanted was to be useful and now, she is. My Lord, find solace in that she now aids the prevention of innumerable more deaths along that route."

"Yes, Lady, I concede you that. Yet what of the other I-15 Murders?"

She paused before answering the king's loaded question. "Tis unlike you to be unsure like this, My Lord." She side stepped answering nicely.

Shoulders sagging, he had always been honest with her. "I feel the high and low of the situation. I cannot reconcile myself with the number of souls already lost and to be in order to contain one individual bent solely on my demise."

Shifted her hands, she ran them through his hair. "At times like this, Ellie would say, 'To resolve an identity crisis such as this, you must forget all the in-betweens and determine the extremities. Then the path is clear.'"

"Wise words from a wise woman, indeed."

"Take heed, then, My Lord."

King Grissom raised his hands and captured the Lady Courtesan's hands. They fell into the sounds of silence comfortably while grief washed in gentle waves over them.

You see, Ellie was also a courtesan with a known loyalty only to the Lady and the King. She was once a prostitute whose strong potential was seen by the Lady who brought her to live as a courtesan. This was an honor since the position of courtesan is far different that what we may perceive it to be. In King Grissom's Court, a courtesan is an honored historian, the preserver of legends, myths, songs, and poetry. The written word is powerful yet nothing can replace the intonations of speech and herein lies the need for the courtesan. They are beautiful and intelligent by nature, graceful and dangerous by education. They carry the ability to protect their benefactor's physical being coupled with the knowledge of times past.

"My Lord, grieve not for my fallen friend, she has achieved her destiny and served you well. Sleep." The Lady Courtesan eased away from the overloaded man and left him to decide if sleep would be long in coming.

  


He knew he dreamed when he saw the finger beckoning him to journey amongst the clouds. Then he saw his Lady waiting for him and his heart ached for her. While the usual obstacles settled in his path. "Look but cannot touch" was the hateful litany they drummed out.

"My Lady."

He watched her face lift gracefully out of the shadows and trembled at the hopelessness lost there.

Her rich, luscious voice haunted his ears as she broke his heart with every word she spoke. "What would you do when the execution of Catherine Willows comes to pass?"

Confused, he gaped. Did they not already stumble through a similar discourse?

Those sad eyes froze his position. That cherished voice drifted toward him again. "An answer is not necessary, My Lord, at the moment. Soon the time will come when a price will be exacted for the execution's prevention. Will you be able to pay the price for my love?"

Throat dry, King Grissom's dream counterpart answered quietly. "$35K O.B.O. can hardly be thought of as a price, My Lady. I would rather consider your love worthy of achieving priceless-ness."

"And would you sacrifice for me?" Piercing blue eyes demanded the honest truth but he would never lie to her, neither voluntarily nor under command.

"For you, I will give and answer any price for the assurance you are safe and happy. For you, I would pilot myself to my own death."

"High words and lofty assurances, My Lord. Yet will you follow through, that is the real question to be answered." Hurtful words, she lapsed into silence.

He waited beyond the obstacles like he always did - awake and dreaming. It pained him that he and his Lady could be so close yet divided forever by the "Primum non nocere". Reality stabbed him by reminding that love is hurtful, in so many ways.

Yet he longed for memories like this, where fate and destiny would peel away the struggles of man and allow simple moments of pure pleasure. They shared all their thoughts and misgivings, hopes and fears on this cloud. With the kingdom's current situation, he knew his Lady would share her thoughts on it with him; thoughts that could never be confessed to awake.

Knowing her as he did, he knew what this would cost her. "My Lady, what pains you?"

A sigh, low and harried. "I see blood drops that foretell my death and a shadow that strikes your ire. I see revenge is best served cold and nothing more. Then I received a taste of what could be between you and me." The beautiful face twisted in agony. "I could accept all but the glimpse of the last. For we know, too intimately well, how that could never be."

  


The wise king lay alert for the rest of the night. The reason, no one will ever know save for, perhaps, a felonious monk with his far-seeing inner eye. All we know is that our king was never the same again. His temperature reached Fahrenheit 932 and he brought his enemy down with swift strikes.

Yet, we digress in our tale. There will be time enough later to tell the story of King Grissom wooing his Lady. For now, let us continue our current tale where it would be wise to recall "Beware of still waters ahead".

***** ***** *****  
© RK 09.Jan.2003


	3. 3 of 4

Disclaimer: _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.  
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.  
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

***** ***** ***** 

Title: A Fairytale Investigation (3/4)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


For many nights after the first, the Inner Circle gathered and reported their efforts to the king. Impatience was rare yet it raged within him. All the preparations required time; time, what was running in circles.

Constable Brass and a team of men located the horrific organ grinder and destroyed the thing so thoroughly. As they watched, completely sick and somewhat fascinated, the smoked curled around them. Choking, they reached a healer before their minds collapsed and were useful for information. Their wills gave strength and time so the Wizard could release a Chaining Spell. Sooner or later, the organ grinder's creator would meet his demise.

The constable also maintained a strict vigil of the sky above. It was here that he and Sir Nick lay their trap for the Stalker who plagued the Capital City. Sir Nick used every trick in his book to uncover and track this man; the stalker was now awaiting the king's judgment.

She had pulled all stops; it was unknown how. Lady Heather's Box was complete. That trap was laid, baited, and ready. Now it was time to entice the enemy out.

Lord Warrick and the king had spent a lengthy amount of time to train those who called themselves the Alter Boys. They were, in fact, common street thieves; all who longed for a better life. Their connection to Lord Warrick was as shady and mysterious, at best, like the man himself, but their loyalty to Lord Warrick was not. When the time comes, they would fight well. Those who will survive had their rewards awaiting.

In his quiet voice, King Grissom outlined his plan.

"Three nights hence is fight night. There is no reason to assume the enemy will not strike before nor after. The burden of proof assures me that night is the night of reckoning. Until then, rest. Come to me at dinner; everything starts at the witching hour."

Then, once again, he was alone with his Lady, the Lady Courtesan. He saw the lines of age and fatigue, and perhaps some doubt. Her biggest role was still to come.

"Hide not your thoughts, My Lady."

"How sure are you?"

"I've examined everything. I have no doubts."

Her eyes flashed. "Scuba Doobie-Doo, My Lord. That does nothing to comfort me."

"Very well, the anatomy of a lye dictates the pattern; I had the Wizard Abra-cadaver what victims we had not yet entombed."

"And they all point to three nights hence?"

"The dead are never wrong, My Lady."

She moved restlessly around the private study, slender hands drifting over the warm, polished wood. It was time to place the last piece of his plan into motion.

The king rose and moved toward the door. "My Lady, snuff out the light and follow."

He led her outside and toward a rise in the land. Standing directly behind her, he leaned to whisper in her ear. No one could overhear, no one could discover his words should they be watched, nor was their closeness here an act unusual. He chose to tell her part of the plan here so her actions would be secret; he needed the stealth.

"My Lady, I need your strength." A formal request and nothing more.

"You need only ask." A formal reply; her loyalty to him was acknowledged.

Now cryptic words only she could comprehend. "I need to have your cats in the cradle in those trees there. Once the enemy realizes the trap of Lady Heather's Box, he will escape the moment we come to apprehend him. He will run, and we will be chasing the bus. Head him off in the trees."

She nodded. "We'll lay in ambush." She studied what she could of the forest in the moonlight. "We'll need at least three men, My Lord."

"Will Lord Warrick's boys suit? Or do you prefer Constable Brass's men?"

"The boys." She flashed a grin as she turned slowly to face the king. "We were all, at one time, on the same side of the law."

His eyes were serious. "It is a dangerous game you play."

"I know, My Lord. The males?"

"You've got males; they will go to you tomorrow night."

Again, she nodded. They remained looking for truths in each other's eyes while the night cherished their closeness. Finally, our king raised his hand and caressed the curve of his Lady's cheek.

Blue eyes became concern. "You are so gentle, gentle. How can I ask what I do of you, Lady?"

"Because I allow you. My Lord, the night fades. Good night." And, abruptly, the king was left alone.

Before retiring, he whispered a wish to the dawn. "Protect her. Let her execution not come to pass; let her be too tough to die. That is all I need."

  


The entire court was in attendance for the trial of the notorious Stalker, discovered and tracked by Sir Nick and captured by Constable Brass. The evidence and the interviews of those involved were heard and echoes of approval for the king were heard. Now the man was brought before the king for his plea.

A guard pushed a sniveling man into the court's midst. His head was erect and all could see he sincerely believed his act would warrant a release.

King Grissom addressed the man in formal entry. "The accused in entitled to a word of honor or a pledge. How would you proceed?"

"A pledge, Lord."

The king addressed the court. "Who pledges for the accused?"

From a far corner, a generally nondescript man walked forth. "For my brother, I'll be pledging Mr. Johnson."

"Very well. You have heard the interviews and seen the evidence. What is your will, Sir?"

The man gazed at his brother. "My Lord, I plea guilty for my brother. He is a bully who deserved to be checked."

And the accused lunged at his brother; the guard stopped him sparing few seconds before another death with witnesses occurred. When the accused man was finally suitably restrained, the king rose and gave sentence.

"The accused, by the word of who pledged, is a bully. For you, no death is good enough. You brought terror to other people. Now you will be forgotten in a long, slow death. You are to be burked. Remove him."

***** ***** *****  
© RK 09.Jan.2003


	4. 4 of 4

Disclaimer: _CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_ does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.  
A *huge* amount of appreciation is for Elyse and her website; I couldn't have done this without it.  
Thanks to the graveshiftcsi groupies for the encouragement.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

***** ***** ***** 

Title: A Fairytale Investigation (4/4)

Author: Laeta  
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

  


Hidden in the foliage of the dense forest, three groups of people nestled in for the wait. The first was the Inner Circle, without the Lady Courtesan, amid Constable Brass's men. Eyes intense and bodies intent, they anticipated the end. Slightly forward of their position, the Alter Boys exuded relaxation. They were the fierce bait that hit Lady Heather's Box. Their fire dampened and, to perfection, they feigned repose.

Shrouded in the darker shadows rested the Lady Courtesan and her cats, the other Courtesans with their daggers drawn and at the ready. They would serve their king well, giving their lives to contain the enemy.

Silence, eerie with the absence of night's creatures, spoke riddles to those who waited to pass time. The midnight hour was soon upon them.

A boom was the only warning that the trap worked and the battle ensued. The boys fought until every minion of the enemy was dead or contained. The minions who fled were chased down and slaughtered - one by one - until the day and night exchanged places while dawn spread her wings.

And then there were none when the screams were only wisps of exhalation in the cool morning air. Everybody silently gathered around the sprung trap, ready for the enemy; it was common sense that he would not yield quietly.

Lady Sara slowly depressed the release lever and the trap liberated its victim. Before a glimpse could be obtained, he evaded their weapons and sprinted for the ancient forest. They pursued.

For long stretches of time, King Grissom led his men in a chase that gradually shifted the fugitive into the claws of the waiting Courtesans. At the predetermined meeting locale, the Lady Courtesan stood bathed in pale, white light with the enemy kneeled before her. His blood gushed out of a debilitating wound and the other surviving Courtesans respectfully sheathed their own claws at their king's approach.

Sir Nick entered the clearing and whistled. He processed the devastating assault littering the area and realized the danger hidden within the serene beauty of a Courtesan. Fitter words were never before spoken on their role as Sir Nick's words. "Let the seller beware when he tries to betray a Courtesan."

Taking up guard positions, the rest of the king's fighters arranged themselves so the king could question the man.

Cold eyes looked into the soul of the wounded fugitive. "Who are you? You who come to enslave and destroy my people."

The enemy's bloody and torn face contorted into an ugly vicious smile. "I am the hunger artist." Then he collapsed.

Taking a step back, the king nodded to the Constable. "Chain him up. Bring him to the palace."

"My Lord, do we not execute?" Constable Brass was poised to kill the scum with one hit, wondering the wisdom of the king's orders.

"No, we do not execute. He goes to the Examiner. Meet me at the palace. Go."

Everybody scattered in one smooth motion and the king reached desperately for his Lady. She was covered in blood, it seemed.

"My Lord, I am not unwell. Just -"

He searched her gaze for the answer before she, too, collapsed - from fatigue, grief, and the effort to restrain her temper. He turned to the other Courtesans and gently handed his Lady to their reliable care.

"She - uh - she's overheated. Once she's cool, change her clothes." He sent pleading looks. "And try to - uh - get her to rest. I will go to her tonight."

Then she was out of sight and the king had an appointment with the Examiner.

  


They trudged down twisted and sordid hallways of the palace; long ago forgotten to be tended, the lighting was horrid and the carpet leaked water. The king lead the way through the maze of corridors until the entourage reached a set of double doors carved delicately out of unknown wood. The design could have been considered attractive had the figures not been so grotesque. Or if the howls emanating from the room could be heard sending shivers down their listeners' spines.

The massive doors held no doorknobs, only a short rhyme: 

> To halve and to hold  
For breaking the mold  
Bring a wrath of cold  
Else never behold.

Not pausing in his stride, King Grissom blew on the convulsed image of a sword and the doors swung open.

The words, "Got murder?" were the sole greeting that met the group.

Reluctantly, the Inner Circle walked further into the suite of rooms to find the voice's owner. He could have been a genial, grandfather-like gentleman had he not been surrounded by the various pain inflicting contraptions littering the multitude of shelves. Gentle eyes contrasted with the nature of his occupation and all could hear the dry, sardonic temperament of the man's mind.

The man slowly shuffled to his feet and bowed a lacking form of respect to his king. "My Lord." He spotted the Constable lurking behind. "Oh, Constable. It's been a while. This is becoming like our old time traditional cross-jurisdictions, my friend."

The Constable could not prevent the good-natured jab. "Well, look around the place, Friend. There's a reason I stay away."

Chuckling, the man introduced himself to the Inner Circle while their king examined his deceased enemy's body. "Lords, Ladies, I am called the Examiner. This is my lair, welcome."

Shudders were ill hidden as they recognized the significance of the man's title. The king called for Examiner Robbins's attention.

"Examiner, what are your findings."

"Well, I was unable to find anything other than what he calls his recipe for murder."

"Recipe?"

"Yes, that is what he calls it. It entails three ingredients: sex, lies, and larvae. The first two are easy to find, but the last. He could only get that from death; he recalled his first murder. Then there was a little bit of a conscious, which was easily swept away with, 'One little death, it was only a little murder, such a small one, too'. He escalated."

"Were you able to find his goal?"

"That was very easy, My Lord. It was something he called 'Evaluation Day'. I gather it was a day of some sort of judgment. Beyond that, nothing."

"You have enough, my friend; you did well." He looked appraisingly over the contraptions in the Examiner's room. "Though, I will be disappointed if you did not use the -"

No words were necessary. A satisfied smile drifted over the Examiner's face. "I did, My Lord, and a pleasure it was."

"Then justice is served. Thank you."

Our wise king left the Examiner's suite for the more soothing rooms of his Lady.

  


The celebration was in full progression when the king arrived escorting the Lady Courtesan. It seemed like so long ago when the king last had a reason for such grand scale merriment. The ripe summer night was festive with warm, glowing lights and sensational aromas meant to rouse hunger. A well rehearsed orchestra filled the night air by persuading the attendees to the dance floor while chatter and wine fed the rise and fall of conversation.

The Inner Circle sat at one of the head tables, enjoying their first night of untroubled times. They all performed well when needed and deserved this night of relaxation. The Lady Courtesan's presence assured them that all who aided in the enemy's death were alive and well. However, none would forget those who had given their lives for the precious information.

Lord Warrick's Alter Boys would start new lives in Governor Ecklie's territory in the west. That land was newly acquired and skirmishes still raged throughout the area. Their skills would be used to support his leadership there. It was unclear on their futures with the Governor nevertheless this put the boys into positions useful to their king, who now commanded their full loyalty. They would leave armed with having the ear of the king; any complaints of the Governor's leadership would bring about strong discipline.

The other Courtesans would soon recover from the battle; they suffered severely in containing the enemy. Here, too, the future of the Lady Courtesan was cloudy but, with the support of her king, she would come out atop. This was due to the negative feelings strongly expressed by the Lady Sara. Unfortunately for her, the Lady Courtesan's position in her king's life was far more secure than hers. Lady Sara's position was to stay quiet and observed her king with the Lady Courtesan. However bitter she felt, she could not deny the strength of their friendship.

Then, with the beginning bars of Mr. Beveridge's Maggot slowly filling the air, she watched as he leaned over to whisper in the Lady Courtesan's ear. It was an intimate position turned special when the Lady smiled. Withdrawing from the Lady's immediate space, Lady Sara saw the king extend his hand to the Lady. Then he led her to the floor to lead the dance.

The Lady Courtesan's laughter added enchantingly to the music as the dance brought the king and her together and apart. Eavesdropping other dancers would say that their conversation was beyond their comprehension to understand.

"Are you sure, Lady?"

"Yes, My Lord. I have permission to dance this dance. I even have permission to dance that scandalous waltz."

"Ah, the waltz." Eyes twinkling, our wise King Grissom spent the night in his Lady's arms.

And here, we end our telling of this atypical fairytale.

  


BTW, Mr. Beveridge's Maggot is the name of a classic contra dancing song. More information can be found at: http://www.sls.hawaii.edu/bley-vroman/contra/dances/beveridge.html and http://www.pemberley.com/pemb/adaptations/pp2/ppfaq.html.

***** ***** *****  
© RK 10.Jan.2003


End file.
